


Splinter.

by Rosining



Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosining/pseuds/Rosining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how fast Olaf drove it just didn't feel right. His head couldn't process this. The noise and chaos melting into a drone then silence. Anders was missing, and had been for the last two days. No answer from his phone for a fifth time as Mike only recieved a voice mail again. Olaf pulled off road for the Norsewood Forest. "You sure about this?" Olaf wasn't convinced, time was too short on their hands.<br/>Mike was clear Ullr was guiding him, and slowly nodded his head. "I know it exactly, well at least 17 or so years ago. Mike continued to glance through the woodlands as Olaf drove through, looking for any sign of Anders, in hopes his senses where wrong.<br/>The edge of the forest was in view and Olaf quickly swerved the car to the side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splinter.

Mike threw himself out of the car as Olaf swerved quickly to a stop.  It skipped throwing mud up with it as it parked next to one of the bushes. By the time Olaf had got out Mike was already further ahead. ‘Please Anders hold on.’ Grandpa prayed to the gods, even if they weren’t listening, staying strong to his faith despite the horrors before. “Mikkel! Can you find him?” Olaf yelled to his eldest grandson who continued racing ahead.

_The sounds of laughing children_  
_“Over here!”_  
_The wind brushing their hair as they ran_  
_“You can’t catch me!”_

Hide and seek, tag, racing- A lot of games where played in these woods. Games… just a game. Mike chanted to himself, feeling Ullr’s presence awakening side him. Not the spirit but its knowledge and assurance, guiding his feet to his younger brother.

He remembered the last time he’d seen him.

His bloodshot eyes where wide as they stared at him. The words he had said shook his brother for sure. It was then, that he saw the last parts of green start to fade out of his eyes.  
The tiny signs of life, dulling into a foreign grey.  
The only scrapes of it left as he had slowly lost himself to the God.  
  
_“Mike? Wh-Where’s Mum?”_  
_Eyes with tears to fall at any second focused intently on him as he entered their home without her._  
_They’d left for the ceremony, only for her to leave everything to him, all to become a tree._  
He didn’t know what to say, how could he?  
_Instead he lied to those fierce green eyes._

_On his 21 st Birthday the lighting casted the grey into his eye. _  
_Only over the years in his eyes the Green to fade over._

“ANDERS!” Mikkel yelled as he ran faster, with no response ahead and the smell of ash growing stronger he his stomach began to churn. He pushed himself up the  steep incline.

Taking the same steps he did as a child, enveloped in their games.  
The hill would then drop into a deep ditch,  
with trees running up for more and more sunlight; competing against one another for its warm glow.  
And there, in those thick branches and trunks sat their little treehouse.

Mike couldn’t breathe, for when he reached the top of hill, he felt a burn around him, the under hill was aflame spitting embers and more ash into the air. “No… ANDERS!”  The fire first appeared to be in its greatest fury, but in fact it was only running on its last breath now, having claimed all in its path.

“Shit.” Mike could hear Olaf cursing behind him. “ANDERS WHERE ARE YOU!?” He screamed. “ANDERS!” Olaf yelled again and again as the charred wood and embers only hissed a response.

Carefully Mike continued down the slope cautiously making his way around the remains, which is where he saw this feet, hanging above him.

Mike couldn’t look. “FUCK!” He cried as he threw his hand into the air. Quickly he squeezed his hands on his skull, trying to force himself to get a grip, maybe even punish himself a little, his mind already screaming at him.

_“To Late. It’s your fault. His blood on your hands.”_

And so it continued.

Olaf gasped a sob, unable to take his eyes of his grandson above him.

“Shit. He-Help me get him down.” Mike started towards the offending tree, before quickly taking a step to the side as he tripped, the world suddenly crashing down on him as he felt his lungs forget how to breathe. “Wngn.. fu-“ He stumbled over his words. “Olaf. For fuck’s sake please. Please.” Mike begged his grandpa whose mouth still hung agape. 

Together they nodded and headed to the damaged rope still holding his brother. “Oh god.” Mike felt he was going to throw up as Olaf helped him climb into the tree to where the rope had been tied.

Anders wasalways the better climber. His hands felt numb as he struggled against the bindings. “Come on, come on please Anders.” Mike prayed to no one as he continued to pry the threads apart. He hissed as the roped burn his hands as it snapped, moving too quickly for him to react as the tension tore, letting his body drop to the floor. “Fuck.” he hissed again as Olaf all but dropped him as he raced to his grandson.

He’d known it was bad from the way had neither made a sound nor moved.

“Oh Anders. Come on buddy.” He heard Olaf beg, some whispers, some wails. With Grandpa’s back to him and Anders in Olaf’s arms all Mike could see was his lower legs, the trousers of his suit dirtied and creased from the heat. Mike couldn’t go any closer. He couldn’t- “We’ll take him to Michele.” Mike stated as he quickly rose from the floor to his feet again. “She’ll use the stick, we can-!” Mike stopped himself from the delusion. The stick was gone, he’d been the one that destroyed it after all. “Olaf.” He calmed himself. We need to get him to a hospital, they’ll be able to treat him.” He suggested out of desperation, but Olaf was silent tears no doubt falling as he held his grandson.

His breath hitched before he spoke. “Even, with Yggdrasil… that can only bring back those near death. Anders. He’s…” And Olaf cried harder pulling his grandson’s body higher into his arms as he mourned.

The movement rocked the body, leaving Mike to unwillingly see his face. For how would ever want to lay eyes on that of your younger siblings, dead, charred, damaged, burned face; a face ashen, with the bruises beneath the rope visible around his neck.

And there he saw from his brother’s half lidded eyes, those eyes that where green, formed grey from the godly presence where now green again, only glassed over and all true-life in them gone.


End file.
